


Day After Day

by Gryffindorian2014



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst and Feels, Attempt at Humor, BAMF Hermione Granger, Bottom Draco, Crushes, Draco Malfoy is a Good Boyfriend, Famous Harry, Feelings, First Kiss, Harry Has a Crush, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Hot Sex, Humor, Inappropriate Humor, Light Bondage, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, POV Draco Malfoy, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Sexual Humor, Soft Draco Malfoy, Switching, Top Harry, Top Harry Potter, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-15
Updated: 2018-01-19
Packaged: 2019-02-15 03:42:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 9,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13022511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gryffindorian2014/pseuds/Gryffindorian2014
Summary: 8th year and Draco has always had the hots for Harry. Harry is drawn in by the difference the war has made in Draco. Ron and Hermione are Ron and Hermione. Draco only wants to kill Zabini.But, seriously: Those crucial moments that essentially shaped Draco and Harry's relationship. Told in Drabbles sometimes.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Some profanity. Lime, maybe some lemon, later on.  
> Timeline: Post-war, eighth year, and basically – "Till death do them part"  
> POV: mainly Draco, maybe Harry, sometimes may also be third person.

 

* * *

_**September 1, 1999 – Going Back** _

* * *

 

This is the not what I need at the moment. In fact, this must be he very last thing I would've done if it was a question of my volition. But the decision isn't mine to make and I've learnt to play along with whatever my parents decide. Besides, it's not like I have much choice, it's either attend Hogwarts for completing the NEWTS or spend the year under the scrutiny of the media. No thank you, I'd rather wash Weasley's dirty laundry with my bare hands before further media attention.

So that was that and September 1st finds me at the station with my mother who is unusually quiet. For the very first time after the war, I feel real apprehension. I tug at my sleeve, conscious of the filthy Dark Mark that still hasn't quite disappeared. My mother gives me a half-hearted smile of encouragement and a one-armed hug and I nod to her. Both of us expertly masking the tension we are currently feeling.

_This is it._

And I take in a deep breath and then step through the barrier between Platform 9 and 10.

* * *

 

The familiar noise of King's Cross falls abruptly silent as soon as I appear unto platform 9¾. But I do my best to ignore them, holding my head high and walking as fast as possible without seeming in a hurry to get away from the hostile glances to downright hateful glares thrown my way. Climbing into the familiar scarlet train, I hurry to the compartments usually occupied by the Slytherins.

Predictably the compartments are rather less populous. I knew for certain that Goyle wasn't returning, after that Room of requirements incident back in the war and something broke between the three of us after Crabbe's death. Goyle had moved to the States with his family to flee prosecution from the Ministry. So did the Parkinsons and the Notts, to France and Denmark, respectively.

Thankfully I find an empty cabin and slip into it, hoping that no one will want to sit with me.

* * *

 

Two hours later and much to my chagrin, no one actually bothered me, apart from the occasional heads poking in to see whether the seats were vacant. I feel strangely vindicated when a few first years actually cower after looking in.

But just as all good things must come to an end, I make the first mistake of the year when I step out of the compartment cabin in order to go in search of the Trolley lady. Honestly, I was bored to tears and I simply needed a chocolate frog and some of Bertie Bott's

All that went to hell because as soon I crossed the threshold that joined two compartments and I felt a vicious spell hit my right calf.

The bloody stinging hex.

I whip out my wand and turn with lightning speed only to see someone fire another aimed at my face and I react faster by drawing up my arms in defence which lead to my forearms taking the brunt of it.

The funny part was that the hex came from a Slytherin.

It took me a split second to bolt into the nearest cabin, which turned out to be my second mistake.

Because Harry bloody Potter was sitting inside it, accompanied by Weasley and Granger.

Shit.

 _Shit_. Not this.

And certainly not  _now_!

Then everything seemed to happen in slow motion.

Potter lowered the liquorice wand from his mouth, his green eyes bright and wide, looking utterly baffled and started to say something but in a movement I quite didn't see because I was looking at Potter with eyes as wide as his; Weasley whipped out his wand and poked it painfully into my chest.

"Get lost, Death-Eater scum!"

Next, it was Granger who gasped and surprisingly, pulled back the buffoon, restraining him with her smaller arms.

"Gladly" I gritted out throwing Weasley the dirtiest look I could imagine and turned on my heel.

"Wait."

It was Potter.

I didn't.

I slid open the door and foot out my foot when someone grabbed my arm and pulled me back into one of the seats.

"Fuck you, Potter! That bloody hurts!"

"Ronald!" Granger shrieked at the same time "Stop pointing your wand at Malfoy!"

Like the stupid arsehole he was, Weasley kept his wand aimed at me, but when Granger added "Now!" he looked at her disbelievingly, but lowered his wand anyway.

It was amusing to see Weasley letting Granger dictate him and him obeying her like a faithful dog.

I couldn't help the smirk that formed on my lips which caused Weasley to glare daggers at me.

Granger ushered him out of the cabin all the while casting surreptitious glances over her shoulder at Potter.

"It'll be alright," he said and the door closed behind them.

That's when I realized that my wounds hurt like fuck.

"Sorry," he said, his green eyes apologetic. "You're hurt."

"Very observant, Potter." I bit out harshly causing Potter to flush.

"If you don't mind, can I have a look?"

I wanted to come back with a scathing reply because what Weasley said touched a damn nerve, but my arm and legs hurt so bad that I simply bit my lips and nodded.

Potter kneeled down on the floor and began rolling up my robes.

I tried hard not to wince. And I definitely did not want to imagine the way those wounds looked.

Damn it. Unfortunately for them, I knew the perfect way to treat those kinds of wankers.

Only when I felt the cool fingers brushing my ankle that I realized I had shut my eyes. Lowering my gaze, I notice Potter muttering some healing spell, his wand glowing a warm green.

Through the haze of the dulling pain, I belatedly realize that Potter's head was uncomfortably close to the juncture between my legs.

And it was doing odd things to my brain in direct connection to the said area.

I tightened the grip on my wand, because, odd things or not. I'd like to keep my valued bits intact, Thank you very much. Especially when it involved none other than my nemesis present  _this_ close and armed with a wand.

The entendre in that thought caught me off guard.

What the fuck?

I couldn't possibly be  _this_  desperate for a fuck.

But all that flew out of the window when Potter made a move to stand up.

"Done"

He said, with a self-satisfied grin and promptly fell forward as the train jerked vigorously right then.

And my last shred of self-constraint snapped.

The sight of Potter flailing like a large, awkward bird would've been hilarious if his gaping mouth wouldn't have been removed by a hair's breadth from landing on my cock.

Salazar's red knickers.

"Oh-um I-I'm-uh" Potter began, stuttering and blushing to the roots of his hair.

His embarrassment was strangely endearing. For a moment I felt my chest twinge with the thought that Potter would probably never want to be around me anymore. Not that he ever wanted to in the first place, but his presence, even in channelled through hateful glances and foul words was strangely placating. It reminded me of a better past where crazy Dark Lords did not breathe down your neck.

Wait. Of course, this doesn't mean I want Potter's idiotic company. Get that straight.

"Potter,  _relax_ " I scoffed, shifting myself carefully to conceal the evidence of my arousal.

"Er...Right, are you alright now-the wounds I mean, I know it isn't as good as Madame Pomfrey's spells but it should help till we get to Hogwarts and then you could go get Madame Pomfrey's help-"

He was babbling, still blushing like a thirteen-year-old, his eyes hesitant to meet mine.

I wondered why. Because it sure as hell wasn't possible for him to actually be aroused by that...was it?

"It's alright if you'd like to sit here till we get to Hogsmeade." Potter was saying.

His eyes met mine and I detected a hint of shyness which I attempted to brush off as my imagination.

"Erm..." He started awkwardly and I realized he was waiting for a confirmation all this while.

"It's because...well...those students who hexed you are still out there..." He concluded, trailing off unsurely at the end.

_Was he apologizing for nearly kissing my cock?_

That thought caused me to smirk.

"Whatever, Potter."

Needless to say, it was the most awkward trip of my life.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've already posted this on ffnet. Because there is no other way to move the stories to Ao3, I'm resorting to manual labour. :'(


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

**_The same day, dinner time._ **

* * *

Across the Great hall, I watch The Saviour of the wizarding world laugh uproariously-every bit like the stupid Gryffindor he is—at something the Weasel is saying while Granger looks patronisingly at said buffoon.

And I have this sudden desire to roll my eyes. I know it's a very juvenile way of communicating. But that sure doesn't stop adults from doing so. It is that effective.

It's no use rolling my eyes as well, it's not as if Potter is going to see me do it and realize that Weasel is just stupid, not funny. Or wait,  _maybe Potter is laughing because the Weasel is stupid?_

On second thought, Potter may be clueless but he's got a warm laugh.

Then, a sudden flash of the memory of Potter gently touching my leg and his cautious wand work makes me feel warm.

It comes as a shock when I realize I'm thinking about Potter.

And possibly getting...aroused?

Again.

What. The.

I grip my knife harder and stab the omelette.

For the rest of dinner, I keep my eyes on my plate and don't let my sight waver beyond the scope of the Slytherin table.


	3. Chapter 3

* * *

  ** _September 3_ _rd_ _, 1998_**

* * *

 

The library is empty when I walk in.

That's not surprising considering that it's only seven in the morning of our second day in eighth year. Moreover, it's a Saturday and thus I'll be spared the drama of feigning the Ex-Death Eater-turned-good-and-repenting act. I won't have to worry about anyone but Granger coming here. That's good. She keeps to herself. But I do notice the subtle looks of sympathy. It annoys me to hell, although it's not as bad as Weasley showing pity, I still hate them. But I'm enduring this. I'm used to enduring. I've been doing that all my life.

I pick up a random book from the shelf and settle down on the ledge of one of the portrait windows.

I don't understand why I need to sit for my NEWTS. It's not like I'll be flooded with job offers. But I can't deny this; it feels good to be back. School was the only place I was myself before insane Dark Lords and warmongers. It was only in the ancient books in the library and the bubbling cauldrons in Potions class that brought me back from going round the bend.

Sometime within an hour or two Blaise Zabini slips into the chair opposite to mine. He's reading the Potions Journal I lent him. Zabini acknowledges me with a distracted nod. He's a quiet one. I like that. All these years later Blaise Zabini is probably the only one closest to being my friend.

We are sitting in companionable silence, poring over our respective books when there is a sudden increase in the noise level.

Distracted, I leave my book on the table and go around the bookshelf concealing us from the rest of the library. There are a large number of girls crowding around something, rather, someone, giggling and exclaiming excitedly. I crane my neck to look for the source of all of that intolerable gushing. And I detect a pair of round glasses and a flash of green eyes.

Of course.

No wonder, I should've known.

Harry Potter is giggling, ridiculously at that, his face a violent red from trying to hold back the laughter while Weasley gesticulates like an awkward goose that has sprouted arms.

It's more than I can take.

"Even the library isn't immune to stupidity. It's ironic, considering this is the place for doing away with stupidity in the first place"

That makes Potter take notice of me. I smirk, partly because I've got his attention, partly because I've riled Weasley up.

Wait. Scratch that. I'm only glad because I could rile Weaselby up.

"Jealous, Malfoy?" Weasel mocks, his stupid mouth widening into what he thinks is a smug grin but it only makes him look like a bigger oaf.

For a split second, I have this ridiculous thought that Weasley might've noticed me looking at Potter for a suspiciously long period of time (, which I question myself, by the way)

"Sure..." I drawl in a bored voice, masking my thundering heart when Potter and the girls stop laughing and he turns to look at me, his green eyes wide with curiosity. I also detect a touch of apprehension. Damn those eyes.  
"It's not every day that the Weasel is lucky enough to have such company. It's amusing to see you make a fool out of yourself, Weasel"

I can hear few of the girls snigger. After all, I was once popular with them too."Don't call me that, Ferret! At least..." Weasley then adds maliciously, "...I don't need to run to a Death-Eater father every time."

Now that was bloody low.

But what really throws me off is the flash of anger in Potter's darkened green eyes.

Somehow it surprises me that Weasley can be such a Slytherin without knowing it. I have half the mind to tell him just to watch him cringe, but it's only small satisfaction. But there's only anger in my conscious and a nasty stinging hex on the tip of my tongue.

"Bugger off, Weasel!" I say drawing my wand.

"Ron, come on!" Potter urges, intervening and grabbing hold of Weasley, his teeth gritted, "Mione will be waiting for us."

_Wait. Is Potter really angry because of what Weasley said?_

"B-But Harry!" Weasley protests, faltering like an imbecile.

"Ron" Potter supplies in a dangerously low tone. "Let's go"

The last bit is added in almost a whisper and I feel something cold trickle down my spine. No wonder Potter could face Dark Lords and what not's.

Blaise grabs my shoulder to prevent me from hexing Weasley. Lucius may be a coward but he's still my father, and that, by default, is an off-limits topic.

The Weasel doesn't notice that I notice Potter looking at me, apologetic.

And all I can do is glare back with all the venom left from those childish fights.


	4. Chapter 4

* * *

  _ **October 5th, 1998.**_

* * *

 

"You like blokes." Blaise states when I brush off his attempts at conversation, his eyes never leaving his parchment. I really needed to get this annoying Transfiguration essay out of my way. But Blaise is as stubborn as they get. And more importantly, that got my attention.

How did he even—?

"I beg your pardon?"

"...not just any man, you like Potter..." Blaise continues, apparently oblivious to my disbelief.

What the—

"Are you out of your mind?"

"Uh-huh" he nods, a knowing grin stretching across his lips.

"Find someone else to annoy, Zabini. I have an essay due tomorrow."

"Sure."

Blaise returns to whatever book he's reading, looking much too smug for my liking.

If only glares could kill.


	5. Chapter 5

* * *

  _ **The same day, Evening**_

* * *

 

"So, are you going to tell me or not?" Blaise demands after Transfiguration. We're headed towards the Quidditch pitch. It's been too bloody long since I'd flown. And I wanted to do so right away; the weather was perfect, a delicious sunshine and a slightly breezy October sky, the smell of autumn pervading everything.

"Tell what?" I say, distracted by a group of players flying high above. I wondered who they were and if I'd be a subject of some nasty hexing experiment again.

For a moment the fear gets a hold of me.

"Potter," Blaise says from behind me.

"What about sodding Potter?" I retort, annoyed once again, he wasn't going to let it go, was he? But he'd better, before I decide to spell his bits to oblivion.

"I don't fucking like him, Zabini. Get that straight." I reply when he remains quiet.

I'm fastening my Quidditch robes when I hear him chuckle.

"Now what?" I say, pissed.

"Who said anything about your liking him? I was merely trying to say that Potter and his Gryffindor pals are out flying."

I roll and my eyes at that but my traitorous heart is already set aflutter.

"See for yourself"

And I did.

Indeed.

Potter, the Weasley chick and a handful of third years were there, I could recognize one fourth year girl who was a Slytherin.

"Not just the Gryffinwhos" I murmur.

I swallow inconspicuously when Potter does a successful Wronski Feint and the juniors squeal.

Merlin, Potter can fly. And look ridiculously good doing so. My lower body parts concur wholeheartedly.

I start to contemplate giving up on today's exercise when Blaise points out something to me and I look up at a distance to see Potter and the Weasley girl flying towards us.

"That Weasley chick is hot. Damn." I hear Blaise say and it's my turn to smirk at him.

"Think you're going to ask her out, Blaise dear?" I say, sniggering when the two of them land and Dean Thomas walks across to give the girl a hug. "I suppose, not."

Blaise can only glare at me.

"Poor little Blaise." I tease.

"Is that right?" He smirks, when Potter is a few feet away, clearly approaching me.

I don't have the time for an angry retort and it's more of a habit when I unconsciously go for my wand.

"Hello, Harry" Zabini greets, smiling pleasantly, masking his secret smirk.

"Blaise" he returns, smiling honestly.

Oh. First name basis, eh?  
Somehow that infuriates me more than it should.

"Want to join us?" Potter asks, looking at Blaise, entirely avoiding my gaze.

"Sorry, I've got to go turn in my essay to McGonagall in...Five minutes." He says, looking genuinely sorry, then his grin turns wicked, "...but I'm sure Malfoy here wants to fly."

I realize I could kill Zabini.

But Potter looks at me as if realizing for the first time that I was present.

"Oh...Er"

"Eloquent, Potter." I can't help but jab. And Potter blushes.

Oh, so now you're going to ask me to fly with you? I think and almost laugh out loud at that ridiculous notion.

"Er. W-Would you like to fly with us...Malfoy?"

I'm utterly gobsmacked and it surely must be showing on my face, because Potter suddenly grins, albeit shyly.

Damn those dimples and those honest eyes.

Sure I'm surprised that he asked but much more so because I say yes immediately. I almost add 'I'd love to' and cringed thinking of the other's reactions.

"Okay, I-I'm, um, we're—we'll be waiting below the goal posts."

I nod at him, half smirking and half smiling, and Potter blushes a bit before running off. I feel enormously satisfied that even if it's a teeny bit, Potter's somewhat flustered.

By the time I grab my old Nimbus and turn to walk down to the posts, I notice Blaise giving me that intolerable look of smugness, again.

"You're smiling." He states, his uncanny sharpness infuriates me.

"Fuck off," I say and storm away.

"That was the second time today..." Blaise says and the sound of his laughter drifts towards me.


	6. Chapter 6

* * *

  _ **Same day, later in the evening.**_

* * *

 

It's been a few hours into the flying routine when Potter asks,

"Are you looking for someone?"

"Nah. It's just that I don't see the Weasel around. I thought you were the centre of his puny universe."

Potter's cheeks stain a delightful red at the jab and I have the sudden urge to topple him to the ground and devour that mouth of his. Immediately my mind dirty mind feeds me with vivid images of Potter's lips around my cock and I shudder violently.

Fuck.

"It—it's just that Ron's with 'Mione...you know...now that they're...well—together," he says biting down on his lower lip, his face colouring a bit more.

"Oh..." I say, distracted by Potter's lips.

And its a few seconds later when my lust-addled brain truly realizes what he implied.

Oh.

"So they are together..." I murmur unconsciously, filing away that bit of information.

Potter shrugs, "It was obvious after the third year."

Did I imagine it or did Potter just sound a bit dejected?

My mind jumps to the worse possible conclusion.

"Don't tell me you like Granger"

"What?"

"Do you?"

"What? What?! No! Of course not! Mione's my best friend. She's like a sister. Merlin, Malfoy!"

My relief is only temporary because my mind comes up with the worst scenario.

"W-Weasley, is it?" I ask, utterly horrified.

Potter's eyes widen and I feel like — one affirmative and I'll be traumatized for life.

Instead, potter tilts his head, scanning me with exaggerated concern, "Are you quite alright?"

I shouldn't have felt this relieved.

"Why aren't you with the Weasley chick then? It's obvious she likes you."

The frankness in his eyes evaporates in a moment and is replaced by dejection?—he flushes, opening his mouth only to leave the question unanswered.

"I-I have to go to the dorm. Excuse me." He says instead and hurries off.

I ignore the sudden twinge of loss and collect my perplexed self—partly because I was having a civil conversation with Potter and mostly because there was a strong possibility of something existing between him and the Weasley girl.


	7. Chapter 7

* * *

_**Halloween, afternoon.** _

* * *

 

The excessive stress of the coursework which included the N.E.W.T's syllabi, as well as some advanced Potions, work that Draco had signed up for was taking its toll on him. He didn't remember the last time he had gone outside the castle and smelt the autumn air. Bags were developing under his eyes from lack of adequate sleep and he had grown thin and pale. Draco felt that his limbs were perpetually aching because of one hex or the other.  
His thoughts digressing from the Potions research paper he was busy poring over till now, he stood up and walked to the nearest window of the library. Draco could tell from the sun's position that it was already very late in the afternoon. He checked his watch.

16:00

He sighed when his stomach rumbled loudly in protest. He had to eat sooner or later. Draco had been avoiding the Dining hall like the sound of a mandrake. Halloween was the worst of times to become the butt of pranks and tricks, and Draco knew how almost everyone had it against him. The thought of everyone huddled in the warmth of the brightly lit Dining hall made him a little sad. Although he had always maintained the image of a lonely wolf, Draco, was innately human. He craved company. He too wanted to laugh and play pranks on friends. Friends, of which, he realized he had none.

A loud collective cheer roused him from his thoughts and he noticed that this particular window overlooked the Quidditch field. The cause of the cheer happened to be Harry Potter.

Draco rolled his eyes.

Could this get any more clichéd?

In spite of himself, Draco's eyes followed a very shirtless Harry Potter who was on his sixth Wronski Feint in a row. The warm glow of sunlight framed his tanned body and seemed to make him glow. He looked otherworldly.

Impressive.

Draco thought, admiring not just Potter's flying skills.

His eyes followed him to the ground where, on landing, he was jumped by a crowd of hysterical girls who were shrieking his name and probably asking him to be their date for the Halloween ball. Ha-ha, knowing Potter, he probably already has a date. A sudden bout of bitter jealousy worked up Draco's throat like bile and he had the urge to vomit. He envied the love Potter had, he envied Potter's happiness, but most of all, he envied the people whom Potter so graciously smiled at.

The thought only made him sadder as he realized he'd have to pass up on going to the ball, not only because he lacked a date, but because he wasn't sure if he'd be welcomed. With that thought firmly set in his mind, Draco picked up his book and walked back to his dormitory.


	8. Chapter 8

* * *

_**Halloween Ball** _

* * *

 

" Oi, mate, aren't you going to dress up?"

Zabini piped, poking his head through Draco's door.

Draco meanwhile was preparing to call it an early night and was tucked under his quilt with a Potions research paper and a bottle of mead that he had sneaked in from Hogsmeade.

"Uh, no?"

"Malfoy, what the fuck? cut yourself some slack. You've been holed up studying since the very first day. You need to cool off, meet some girls—oh—my bad, check out Potter all dressed up like a dandy" he winked.

Draco was utterly baffled as to why he blushed at that very moment.

"Ah—I—No thanks, I'll pass"

But Zabini was nothing if not stubborn. So after a good hour of fierce passive-aggression and a promise of heirloom ale later, Draco had reluctantly consented to go. Zabini pounced on his indecisiveness and pulled him out of bed, helping him dress up in a black silk shirt and a sharp grey suit that brought out the silver in his eyes.

They hurried out of the dungeons and ran up to the main hall.

* * *

 

Draco was infinitely grateful when no one paid him any mind, in fact, he even attracted some female attention. A second year he did not know was eyeing him rather salaciously and he turned away swiftly and walked towards Zabini who was chatting up the Weasley girl who looked quite stunning, Draco gave her that. And—by Salazar, right behind her, there was Potter and the Weasel laughing over their ginger ale and a flock of girls surrounding them. Draco watched Potter with his mouth agape. He looked too appealing. He filled out his raven black suit perfectly, puberty agreed with Potter and the muscles of his arms were pronounced through his suit. His raven hair was longish and his eyes like emeralds. Draco's eyes shifted to Potters bee-stung mouth that was red from toffee or something and caught him grinning widely.

Draco swallowed unconsciously. He was about to turn around and head out of the party which by now, was in full swing. When:

"Oi! Malfoy!" Zabini shouted across the room to him, "Over here!" he was waving both his arms. Not wanting to embarrass the closest thing he had to a friend, Draco walked over to his side. Nodding stiffly towards Ginny Weasley and not even looking at her company.

"You make quite a dish, Malfoy," Ginny remarked, arching a red eyebrow. Malfoy was stunned. He was at the point of gawking but years and years of refined breeding had made him master of the art of schooling his features into a look of nonchalance. He wanted to come back with a snide remark like he would have before the war but he found himself appreciating her effort to make him feel at ease.

"You look quite well yourself, Weasley"

"Why thank you, Malfoy, I didn't know you had it in you to compliment others"

"Oh, Draco's a real softie inside." Zabini sniggered.

"Is he?" Potter remarked innocently and out of nowhere, while Ginny and Blaise joined in the laughter. Draco Avada-kedavra'd Zabini over and over in his mind and forced to himself to smile, spotting Granger who smiled back at him and led the Weasel away to the dance floor.

* * *

 

Draco breathed a deep sigh of relief when the chilly autumn night breeze blew gently ruffled his hair and cooled his cheeks. He felt unnecessarily aroused and the cold of the breeze was welcome against his rise in body heat. And anyway, it wasn't like he wanted to encroach upon the Gryffindors' fun. He stuck out like a sore thumb among those cheerful folk.

Draco was so lost in thought, leaning against the cold balustrade of the astronomy tower that he hardly noticed someone stepping beside him.

It was only when Harry cleared his throat that Draco started.

"Potter" he acknowledged, schooling his astonishment into an expressionless mask.

"Erm. Hi Malfoy…"

"Hm"

Draco continued looking outside at the night's scenery. Besides it was too dark to make out anything except Potter's glasses that occasionally caught the dim moonlight and his form like a shadow with only his hands somewhat visible on the stone balustrade, contrasting with Draco's pale ones.

"Uh…" Potter started again.

"Why are you here, Potter?" Draco cut him, he didn't understand why he was suddenly so annoyed.

"I just needed to get away…"

"This is not where you usually "get away" to"

"I—I wanted to talk to you"

When Draco did not reply Potter continued, "I wanted to apologize about Ron's behaviour that day, and sorry about your leg, does it still hurt?"

"It wasn't your fault Potter. And that injury happened two months ago." Draco curtly replied.

"Oh yes-er, sorry."

"Potter" Draco sighed, exasperated, "Stop apologizing"

"Please" he added as an afterthought.

"Right. I'll leave you alone, Malfoy" Potter half-whispered and turned around.

Overcome with guilt Malfoy darted out his hand and grabbed Harry's wrist.

"Wait. Don't leave"

"What?"

Potter sounded surprised.

Draco withdrew his hand like it had been burnt and thanked the higher powers a million times that it was dark and that way Potter wouldn't catch him blush.

"Er—what I mean was, you may stay, you don't have to leave, of course, if you want to leave then that's fine." He cursed himself for babbling and felt Potter move back to the spot beside him.

The two boys stood like that for a long time before Professor McGonagall voice directing students to bed, amplified by the sonorous charm rang down the halls.

"Good night then, Potter"

Harry's face was now visible in the moonlight and just before Draco turned the corner to reach for the stairs, he heard Harry's voice call out to him.

"Did you _blush_ , Malfoy?"


	9. Chapter 9

* * *

_**Christmas Eve** _

* * *

The little boy leans in closer with his thickly gloved hands curved around his eyes. Nose pressed against the window pane, he peers into Honeydukes. His breath repeatedly condenses into a haze while a pair of eager, deep grey eyes quickly scan the contents of the shop from outside. His gaze has a hint of calculation but the glint of internal debate is replaced with the pure delight of a ten-year-old at the sight of an assortment of luxury Christmas themed chocolate frogs.

"Father!"

The little boy almost yells, barely masking his enthusiasm with years of etiquette training. When his father does not respond he turns around to see him gone.

"Father!" the little boy screams anxiously. A few passersby stop to whisper, hesitating whether or not to help the little grey-eyed boy with silver hair.

"Father! Father!" he screams, terrified. The small gloved hands are now curved around his mouth.

"Master!" his house elf in a tattered pillowcase appears with a crack and before the little boy can sigh with relief, he is ushered away to the quieter side of Diagon Alley.

This side of the market is a little shabby, he notices. Dimly lit and the slithering darkness seems to have a life of its own. He doesn't like the feeling he has about this place. It doesn't feel like Christmas here. He is ushered into a dingy shop where his daddy is talking to a weird man.

"Father!" the boy calls relief washing over him at the sight of the older man with the same eyes and hair.

His daddy doesn't acknowledge him immediately but shoots a withering look towards the house elf for the interruption.

When the elf takes him away outside, he peers around the turn to look at the happier street filled with cheerful children going in and out of the sweet shop and twinkling lights and colours. He wonders what Christmas Eve is like for them.

* * *

Draco's pale hands are splayed on the frosty window of Honeydukes while he takes a long moment looking into the brightly lit shop.

Seems like the entire population of Hogwarts is here.

He shifts and feels the galleons clink in his pocket. Draco smiles in spite of himself, the Christmas air is infectious in a bittersweet way, although for him it's more bitter than sweet. He sighs softly before slipping his cold hands into the warm pockets of his winter cloak and walking over to the Hog's Head.

* * *

Christmas wasn't the same anymore for Harry Potter. Every time he tried to think back to his best Christmas in Hogwarts when he had received his father's invisibility cloak, Harry's mind flooded with images from the past year. He froze when he remembered how he and Hermione had nearly been killed by Nagini in Godric's Hollow. The ice-cold dread that had settled in the pit of his stomach when the snake lunged at them before Hermione apparated both of them to the forest of Dean.

Harry swallowed cautiously, feeling the cold grip on his heart dissipate slowly. He dragged himself from his bed and threw on his cloak before leaving to get a drink.

* * *

The stuffy warmth of Hog's Head engulfs me as soon as I walk into the pub. Hog's Head is as sparsely occupied as always.

Perfect.

This is one place where I can always count on for drinks and no questions asked. I always take care to tip the bartender generously.

I sit at my usual spot by the window toying with the tumbler I watch the scores of delighted students shout and giggle, all of them so fucking cheerful like they've OD'd on the Euphoria Elixir. I take an angry gulp. My insides feel the burn of the strong firewhiskey. I'm having it clean tonight. It helps with this sudden wretched feeling of loneliness.

* * *

When Harry arrives before Ron or Hermione in the pub, the first thing he notices is Draco Malfoy.

Harry couldn't understand if it was the excess butterbeer or the ale that the boys sampled in the dormitory earlier, but he found himself walking towards the silver-haired boy who looked so lonely and small.

 _Had he grown thinner?_  
_Come to think of it, Malfoy wasn't coming to his meals at all._

Harry reached Draco's table and reached out to tap him on the shoulder exactly at the moment when Draco, in a flurry of woolen cloak and musky cologne stood up and turned around, proceeding to knock Harry's nose bloody with his head. Harry grunted and immediately sat down on his hunches, pressing his nose with both hands.

"Fuck-"

"Potter!"

On receiving no response except a series of grunts and a lot of unsavoury stares, Draco grabbed Harry's shoulders, lifted him up and walked him out into the snow.

* * *

"Shit, Potter, why would you sneak up on me like that?"

I pried open his hands to see that his nose was turned at a ghastly angle beneath all the red smattering of dried blood.

"I-I was just..." Potter began, his voice incredibly nasal and suddenly I found it incredibly endearing. "Sorry" he muttered under his breath before waving his wand and watching Potter wince as his nose snapped back into place.

"What was that?" he asked, his eyes were watery and the colour of his ears matched his nose.

"You should clean that up" I replied, ignoring Potter's question. No thank you, I wasn't going to repeat my apology.

"Er-yeah, thanks..."

"Whatever, Potter"

* * *

Harry stood there for a few seconds, processing whatever just happened and watching Malfoy turn around, a hint of a smile on his face, and walking towards school. His skin burning from wherever Malfoy had touched him and the sound of his gently uttered healing spell ringing in his ears.

"Harry!" Hermione called, out of breath and Ron at her heels, both looking patronizingly concerned.  
"We saw you with Malfoy, is anything the matter-Holy cricket! you've got blood all over your mouth, did he-"

"No No, it was an accident, it was my fault actually..." Harry replied absentmindedly, still following Malfoy's retreating silhouette with his eyes. He felt a deep sense of loss, as if, there had been a moment where he was supposed to have done something. Besides, he didn't even thank Malfoy properly...

"Mate, are you alright?" Ron asked, and Harry managed a nod.

He barely registered Hermione drawing her wand out to clean his face when something came over him, like a surge of urgency and he mumbled for his best friends to not wait up as he ran towards Malfoy.

Harry could hear Hermione's confused calling but he only spared them a short glance shouting back "Don't wait up"

* * *

I hadn't turned the corner to the road that led up-to Hogwarts when Potter ran up beside me, breathing heavily. To say I was surprised would be a gross understatement. I noticed that his face was flushed and he still had blood on his face.

"I-I wanted to thank you" Potter finally breathed. "Properly," he said before pulling out a strange but very appetizing bar of what looked like chocolate.

"I'm sorry this is all I have left, Ron must've taken the frogs. If you don't want this I could get you something from Honeydukes, I know this might look suspicious..."

What happened next was probably because of the alcohol. I drew my wand, "Potter, you have to get this cleaned" and touched it to the tip of his nose. He blushed so hard I swear I could've seen steam coming out of his ears if it had been light.

I smiled, I couldn't hold it in. This was the first time in a long, long time that I felt as though a fellow-peer genuinely cared about what I thought. Much to my embarrassment, I felt rather sentimental. Before the corner of my eyes started to tear, I'd have to get out of Potter's sight. Happy or not, Potter and I weren't exactly friends.

"thank you" I managed to whisper. I pretended to not notice the outbreak of goosebumps on my skin as my hand brushed Potter's.

I turned to leave once again but Potter stopped, his warm hand easily enclosed the wrist of my currently underfed body.

"Friends?"

My heart fluttered and I had to draw upon the entire strength of my etiquette in order to manage the polite affirmation while not combusting in a pool of undignified mush.

"Friends"

I repeated, not without a hint of uneasy dejection.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco fucking hates Christmas. Until this one. Potter can only blush around Malfoy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A VERY Happy Christmas in advance!

* * *

 

**_Christmas Morning_ **

* * *

 

 _Fucking_ Christmas

I hate everything about Christmas the silly gifts, the incessant talk about exploiting one unsuspecting individual's loneliness in order to get laid, the students huddled together around the gaudily decorated trees. The fucking sappiness thick in the air, _it’s hard for me to breathe._

Apart from the general euphoria that grates on my nerves are the associations they have for me, Christmas means tedious dinner parties at the manor, the backstabbing gossip and conspiracies hatched, rich food which never suited me too well and the obnoxiously cheerful band that would play kitschy tunes.

Well,

At least that was what used to be until last year. The war left us virtually penniless by dwindling our means, cutting off our sources of income and forcing us to fall back on the family gold in the vaults. Which really meant that as much as they might want to, Lucius or Narcissa couldn't afford to throw any kind of parties, and with the kind of blow that the family name suffered, no one would want to be seen as associating with us at one of our's anyway. Believe it or not, I was actually glad to have an excuse to stay back at the school and away from my parents this time. With everything that had happened, I really needed to gather myself properly. And I needed to do it on y own terms.

 

I stopped pacing around my unmade bed, extricating myself from the dump of my "Christmas cheer" and briefly wondered if I should go upstairs to take a look at the decoration in the Great Hall anyway, Zabini did say that McGonagall went quite overboard with the treats after the debacle of the past year, and maybe, I could nick some of those goodies for another nice, quiet night in with my reading.

* * *

 

_Hermione and Ron are really happy, aren't they?_

Harry thinks to himself, clutching the latest copy of _Seeker_ _Weekly_ and watching a red-faced Hermione chase Ron around the Gryffindor table after having opened one of the trick presents that Ron had sent for from the Weasley's joke shop.

In one corner he notices Ginny and Dean eating their faces off. He really wants to feel bad about Ginny, he felt he should at least try and be a little dejected about it. After all, everyone else thought in no uncertain terms, that their breakup was the Loss of The Century, but he simply couldn't bring himself to, and Harry's stomach quivers when his mind immediately jumps to an image of grey eyes and pale face.

_Dammit._

He shakes away his thoughts and focusses on his friends, beginning to laugh when Hermione, unused to the strain, stops to catch her breath and promptly aims a wordless charm and sends Ron flying, hanging upside down by his right leg in the thin air. Hermione, unsteady with laughter and joined by Luna approach Harry's seat while a floating Ron pleads Harry to let him down or at least hand him his wand, promising a treat on their next visit to Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes.

Harry pointedly ignores Ron, heeding Hermione's silent warning from across the table, while the two girls take a seat and dig into the plate of miniature cauldron cakes that appear before them.

Harry only begins to get back to the very interesting spread on Viktor Krum's shocking early retirement when he notices the unmistakable head of white-blond standing taller and in contrast to everyone else's brown, black and golden. He doesn't quite understand or want to admit _why_ his heart begins to thunder. He looks around quickly before returning his gaze to Draco Malfoy who was now walking towards the largest tree at the end of the hall behind the teacher's table.

Harry spared another glance around before leaving the table to approach the same tree, it was in part, his infamous curiosity and part desperate need to _know_ what to make of Malfoy's recently surprising way of treating him and the knot that formed in his chest every time Draco was within visible range.

_Oh, pull yourself together!_

* * *

 

 

"You better take care to not let your beloved _fans_ see you hanging around me so much." Draco said, before turning to face Harry who was still a few paces behind him, "or they might begin to wonder where your loyalties lie."

Harry was sure Draco was laughing at his expense, but something in his voice, something in the way he said those words and the intensity of his direct grey stare as soon as he turned, set Harry's already nervous heart aflutter and he barely managed a nervous "Hi", while blushing furiously and beginning to run his hand awkwardly in his hair .

Draco was ready to add another remark at the Gryffindor's expense but the way Harry reacted surprised him, and he felt a little bit of heat behind his eyes as well. Clearing his throat to free the sudden thickness of air between them, he continued "Well, Potter, how may I be of assistance? assuming, of course, that it was because of _me_ that you graced this part of the hall with your presence at all"

Trying very hard not to blush and regaining his confidence after the initial shock of encounter, Harry counters "I could ask you the same question, Malfoy"

"One, I'm not here because of _you_. Two, I distinctly recollect _you_ staring at _me_ not so many moments ago"

"You wouldn't know I was staring at you, Not that I was, I wasn't, just to be clear but you wouldn't know I was-if I was in the first place if you hadn't stared back, no?"

"As usual, Potter, your logic is... _astounding_ " Draco deadpans, but Harry doesn't miss the mirth in his eyes and the way his lips begin to form a half-smirk.

"Um, Malfoy?"

Harry looks at Draco, searching his face for the courage. _It's only a drink. We're friends now, friends can surely go out for a drink._ But the knot tightens and Harry just stands there, looking at him, at his amused frown and an errant strand of hair falling across one eye, he looks at his eyes, so much darker in the candlelit hall, and Harry wonders if it was fair at all, to deny himself of that one extra move of self-indulgence that, although capable of a political apocalypse...might just be what he really wanted?

"Um...I"

"Do you want to have a drink?"

The question snaps Harry out of his daydream and throws him off balance

"What?"

"Is that what you want to ask me?"

"What?"

"This is getting a little repetitive, Potter."

"Didyoujustaskmeout? he blurts, _great! just great! blabber like an idiot, perfect!_

"Since you look like you might have a cardiac arrest before managing to do so, I thought I might appeal to my considerable altruism and help you get on with it."

"Altruism..." Harry manages, still staring disbelievingly at Draco, who was now beginning to blush himself. "Indeed," he then adds, not being able to stop grinning. And Wonders! Wonders! Malfoy grins back at him-a full grin, his eyes crinkling and the tension dissipating, Harry feels, no, he _knows_ , that this is the right moment to really say something, to _at least_ let Draco on into an inkling of what this might mean for both of them, _arch enemies and all_ , he thinks rolling his eyes internally, and he had finally found his tongue. Draco was looking at him with a peculiar intensity, with a kind of vulnerability that he only once saw before, under regrettable circumstances. Only this time, Harry is sure that he would do everything to protect this precious moment of complete, unspoken trust. 

And for the very first time, in as long as he can remember, Harry feels like he's beginning to view things with greater clarity. Just that infinitesimal moment held so much promise for him, he prayed to whatever higher powers there were, that it meant something similar, in some degree, to this person standing opposite to him.

"Well?" Malfoy says, now properly blushing and rather impatient.

Harry is about to say something in return when he feels someone tug his arm by his wrist from behind and is turned around by the surprise of the pull. Faltering a little, he turns to see Ron facing him, a twig of pine lodged in his hair, Harry is about to mention it when Ron pulls him a little distance away and begins abruptly:

"Honestly Harry," Ron said, making no effort to lower his voice or cast a _Silencio_ , showing surprising reserve and completely ignoring Draco completely, "I don't understand _why_ you feel the need to associate with the likes of _them_ at all."

"Ron-"

"Have you really forgotten what he did to Dumbledore? What _his_ family, did to Snape? What Lucius did to Gin'? Have you, Harry!?"

"Ron, that's not fair, and you know its-"

"More complicated than that? Yeah. Right. You need to sort your priorities out, mate." With that, Ron began heading down the hall, "Mione', Loony and I will be at the Three Broomstick's if you need us" he adds a little too condescendingly for Harry's liking.

"I'm really sorry...Draco" Harry says, turning back to Draco gingerly, deeply unsettled, "D-D'you still want that drink? My treat."

But when he dares look Draco in the eyes again, there is already a distance and the smile is gone.

 _I'm not a fucking charity case, Potter. Of course, it was going to be a fucking waste of time. It was so fucking stupid of you to think otherwise. ha-ha, the joke's on you._ Draco thinks sardonically.

"I'm not eleven anymore, Potter," Draco said, before turning away sharply and disappearing through the back door.

The sudden icy formality in Malfoy's brusque tone shocked Harry than he cared to admit, it actually... _hurt_.

 

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione is sensible, Ron is not. Hermione talks to Draco.

* * *

 

_**Christmas Afternoon** _

* * *

 

"Did you know, for a Slytherin, you _really_ are daft" Hermione comments, before _scrougifying_  the dust and folding her cloak to sit down on it.

Draco glances up momentarily and notices Granger's muggle jeans and a hideous purple jumper with a huge 'H' and a 'G' stitched as an afterthought, which clashed horribly with her hair.

"I don't remember asking for your opinion, Granger" Draco retorts drily, with much less venom than he intended, "And... _cute_ jumper" he adds, unable to stop himself from scoffing with laughter.

"Now, I don't remember asking _your_ opinion either. Besides, its something of a tradition for me now."

Draco simply rolled his eyes and turned to look at the lake, black with silver streaks in the late twilight.

If Draco was completely honest with himself, he rather admired her, she came from nowhere, a nobody, according to Lucius, but she still managed to hold her own through everything, without becoming Harry Potter's shadow. Although she did tend to be rather bossy and patronizing, she was rather pleasant, and easy on the eyes as well, besides, Potter seemed to trust her with his life. But after the recent incident with Weasley, he really wanted to be left alone and he certainly did not want Granger's pity. So it wasn't without a degree of irritation when he asked, 

"What do you want?"

"Look, Malfoy..." Hermione began, neatly folding her legs and crossing her arms, turning to face him, with what seemed like it was going to be a long lecture.

Draco immediately raised a hand and silenced her "Cut to the point, Granger. I don't mean to be rude, but unlike Weasley, I _do_ like to be left alone when I am off on my own."

"Yes, yes, I'm not here to lecture you either, Malfoy" Hermione huffs, "I just want to let you know that I don't know what Harry thinks he's doing, or what he intends to do, but I'm not stupid, I know that he's...he's somewhat...attracted to you...I mean, I really don't know, it's just the way he's been behaving around you ever since the beginning of the term..."

Draco, although unsure of what to expect from her, was definitely  _not_ expecting "the talk" to happen, and certainly not with the best friend of his arch-nemesis.

"...do you understand what I'm trying to say?"

Completely taken off-guard, Draco begins to blush and Hermione stops abruptly, looking at him, wide-eyed, his blush mirroring hers now with realization dawning in her brown eyes.

"So..."

"Uh, Granger...I"

"Are you in love with Harry?"

"What the fuck, Granger?"

They said simultaneously.

"Okay," she says slowly, nodding sagely. "Alright" 

"Granger, look, I don't know what you think but-"

"Harry's gone towards the library" Granger prompted, "I did think it was odd of him when he said he was going there. Oh well" She chirped, clapping her hands together, "Now I know"

Then she disappears towards the school building, leaving an utterly baffled Malfoy in her wake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haha :3


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco is a good samaritan*

"You left your cloak outside, Granger," Draco said tonelessly, dropping the black bundle deliberately on Ron Weasley's head with more force than necessary "oops! sorry about that, Weasel, didn't notice you, not that you stand out in any way other but because of your hideous hair."

And before Ron can even open his mouth, Draco fires a full body bind curse and Ron freezes in his position, his face contorted in anger and turning purple.

"I better go and look up that reference book for the final Potions paper." Draco nods at Hermione, who, despite herself, grins back, undoing his spell.

Draco barely hears the loud sound of Weasley's angry tirade before turning the corner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *strict Terms and Conditions Apply.


	13. Chapter 13

* * *

_**Christmas Evening Pt. 1**_

* * *

 

"Potter!" I almost shout, my voice louder than necessary as I rush through the door into the Library. My nervously beating heart was certain Potter is not here and for the very first time, I feel disappointed that the library is completely empty.

It wasn't like I expected Potter to sit around, waiting for me, then in true muggle romantic comedy fashion, run into each other's arms and snog each other senseless. Alright, maybe I did hope for a bit of the latter after what Granger had to say. My stomach rumbled loudly and then flipped. A sense of urgency washed over me, it was the same need to do something I had when I was eleven and saw the famous Harry Potter for the first time.

I _had_ to find him.

 

* * *

 

Harry didn’t quite know why he had come to the library, and if he thought it was a brilliant plan to avoid Ron and Hermione—well, it wasn’t. Evidently, the library was a popular place for the students on Christmas.

Carefully bypassing the alarming number of couples, Harry slipped quietly into the narrow space between the two shelves at the North West end of the room that concealed the window where he had often noticed Malfoy sit alone.

Sitting there, all by himself, in a space that was so personal to Draco, Harry felt a strange kind of intimacy. He tried to think back on how he should have handled the situation in the Great Hall, he wondered if Draco felt the _things_ he felt about him

… _Draco_ …

he repeated in his mind, trying to get used to it, blushing at the onslaught of images of fine hair and clear eyes.

Harry tried imagining how it would be if Draco suddenly turned up in this spot. Would he be angry that Harry was encroaching upon his space? Would he blush like that time in the Astronomy tower? What would he say? Harry wanted to apologize, he only wanted to keep apologizing and…and…touch him, touch his hand, would it be cold?

And would Draco...let Harry  _kiss_ him?

Harry blushed again at his train of thoughts. He felt the heat rise to his face, settling in, and spreading to the extremes of his body. He took off his jumper and sat with his arms folded, shaking his head to stop the thoughts about how Malfoy’s mouth might feel on his own. He could smell Malfoy’s subtle cologne, and he imagined his mouth soft, eager against his. Maybe even flashing that rare smile of his. Harry shuddered.

It wasn’t long after he realized he was getting uncomfortably hard in his pants.

 _Dammit_.

Harry decided to get away to the safety of his dorm before his imagination went south.

Contrary to what Ron thought, Harry didn’t find it amusing when the flock of fourth years surrounded him. He always felt extremely awkward around unfamiliar women in the first place and the bold fourth years who went so far as to ask him to show them around muggle London terrified Harry as he did not want to be rude but at the same time wasn’t eager for their company.

He had his own pressing wizard problems, thank you very much. So when a particularly persistent fifth year Hufflepuff girl blocked his exit from the library, asking him who he was taking to the Yule Ball when Ginny was obviously going with Dean Thomas, Harry bolted and slipped into the boy’s lavatory which was the closest thing to the library.

 

* * *

 

"Potter, are you seriously hiding here?!"

Was what Draco wanted to scream to Harry's face when he ran into him in the loo. Draco on his part was hyperventilating with anxiety and the sight of Harry inspired a tremendous rush of relief and he was wary he would lose his footing and turn into a pool on the bathroom floor. Instead, he schooled his face into nonchalance with all he could muster and commented suavely:

"We've got to stop running into each other this way, Potter...but hey."

"Fifth formers!" Harry exclaimed. Like you do. Then grinned nervously, running his hand through his hair.

If Draco had been a little braver, he thought to himself, he would've kissed Harry right then.

The two stared at one another for a beat or two. Waiting.

"Uh...? Draco said instead. 

"I'm sorry...I-" Harry hesitated. Draco looked at him intently. "I should probably go," Harry said finally. His shoulders drooping noticeably.

Draco sighed internally and prepared himself to let it go, but then he remembered that urge. The desperation to do something that felt right in a long time.

"Harry" he called, his heart thundering, his voice was barely a whisper but Harry froze. He turned around to face Draco but looked anywhere but in his eyes. "Wait," Draco says.

And suddenly he is ten years old and peeping into Honeydukes again, aware that he could buy everything in the shop if his father were so inclined to indulge him but also knowing that he wasn't welcome among the happy faces inside, among all the other children who clung on their folk's hands. _Disgusting._ Said his father's voice in his ear. And he agreed, but deep inside he felt cold and wished, fervently wished to be a part of the crowd for once.

_Disgusting_

Draco heard his father's voice again. Sneering. Mocking his current state of vulnerability. He clenched his fists.

No! Draco thought. Not anymore.

And perhaps he'd said it out loud because Harry Potter was looking at him quizzically.

"Malfoy..." Harry started when he found his voice.

Not anymore. Draco heard himself.

"I want..." he said, stepping towards Harry, "to do..." Draco took hold of his wrist and tugged him closer, "a brave thing", he murmured, leaning forward and pressing his lips to Harry's gaping mouth.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know, i know, where izzz da lemonz. to be fair, i am writing it as i post this chapter...and I think i am a bit insecure about it. i hope it lives upto your expectations, all of you who have been patiently reading this. thank you. and i hope you folks have a great year ahead. love.

**Author's Note:**

> I'll be happy to take requests and suggestions about Drarry plot bunnies for this series! And because I cannot yet find a suitable title I'm using this lame one.


End file.
